


Ice Cold

by SpookshowBabyx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookshowBabyx/pseuds/SpookshowBabyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altercations arise when Regina finds Emma and Henry immersed in a Snowball fight during working hours. The Mayor expresses her displeasure, but the Sheriff has her own take on how the day should go. Challenging the Mayor on the obvious tension between them, she initiates a more intimate experiment on why it exists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is one of two prompts I've written for christmas presents this year. This one is for my friend, the lovely femphoenix on here, under the prompt of snow/ice, and angst. Not entirely sure when this is set, but post curse breaking, anyway...Hope you enjoy and please review! :)

Four twenty.

Four twenty and the grey slate that plays backdrop to a weak winter sun begins to seep a delicate indigo.

Four Twenty and evening begins to fall; the daylight hours short, sweet and perfectly characteristic of Northern Maine weather this time of year.

Perfectly  _normal_.

And just about the only thing in their little town that is.

Four twenty and the Mayor purses her lips as she regards the stylish silver clock adorning the west wall of her kitchen for just a moment longer.

She had come here, into the kitchen, in order to make a start on dinner; the hour a little young to be sitting down to an evening meal, but she is as militarian in her cooking preparation as she had once been about her running of the town... And at least potatoes are not subject to cheap leather and store-bought dye getting in the way of her plans.

Or, so she would have liked to believe...

But, yet, here she is; four twenty, darkness creeping in for the night, and not a sign of her son to be seen.

It would seem the Sheriff is able to get in the way of even the most  _simple_  of life's tasks after all.

"It's too bad even  _that_  idiot might see through the offer of another turnover... Perhaps a pie...?"

She muses irritably beneath her breath as she plucks her phone from her pocket and places a call to the Station while resting her free hand impatiently on her hip. Her call requires only the depression of a single key, as both the Station and Emma's personal number are stored into her phone's speed-dial; a fact that- though it has proven necessary- is still much to her displeasure.

Six hollow rings and then she is downgraded to voicemail.

Graham's voice.

Still.

But then by now, she doesn't know why she even  _bothers_  to find herself surprised.

"Honestly, dear, if not for the fact that my head would be on a plate due to your most _undeserved_  favour amongst the idiot cretins we oversee, I feel I should have a perfect right to demand your abdication from your position for the simple fact that this town is seemingly paying you to drink coffee and perfect your chair-balancing technique..."

She growls as she hangs up; subsequently adding her increasing habit of conversing with herself to the long list of grievances for which Emma Swan can- and must- be blamed.

She doesn't bother trying the younger woman's mobile- history having taught her that the very fact that she  _owns_  such a device frequently escapes the blonde's memory- and proceeds simply to march into the hallway and don her coat and winter boots; damning both the snow and the Savior beneath her breath.

* * *

Pulling into the thick snow that blankets the Station's parking lot with a moment's blind panic as the back end of her Benz fishtails towards the Sheriff's bug, Regina applies the handbrake forcefully and glares up at the dull brick of the building before her.

A strand of plain, white christmas lights hangs in merry waves above the main door, and the brunette has to admit, this is a vast improvement on the garish, flashing bulbs she had seen the Sheriff help desecrate the Diner with; Ruby standing obediently at the bottom of a rather rickety looking ladder like a well-trained, scantily dressed puppy dog, while the blonde had balanced precariously atop its highest rung, clad in ghastly red leather and wielding a hammer.

The Mayor had sniffed as she'd made her way past this little scene, with the thought that it was perhaps too fanciful a wish that Emma might incur a fatal accident tumbling down onto the pavement below... And perhaps take Ruby out with her for good measure.

"It never hurts to dream..."

She mutters now, pushing open her door and stepping out into the soft crest of snow with a crunch.

The immediate ruckus that heralds her exit of the car has her clenching her teeth angrily.

Through the curious lull of natural sound that seems to occur as an inexplicable, subsequent phenomena of thick fallen snow, she is greeted with an excited, gleeful whoop, carried flawlessly by the frigid wind, which is answered by a breathless holler, culminating in a communal shriek and harmonious giggling.

"That does  _not_  sound like work..."

A low, sultry growl, and the Mayor slips her hands into her pockets and bows her head against the worst of the icy wind as she stalks purposely past the path leading to the Station, and around the back of the building.

Coming to a stop at the corner of dusky brick, she lets out an audible sigh as she surveys the vast expanse of emptiness that usually sits as an untouched excess of abandonned tarmac overlooked by the Station's bathroom and kitchenette.

Now, the entire area is blanketed a blinding white; broken sporadically by deep imprints zigzagging haphazardly this way and that. The sorry remains- or, perhaps, the unfinished beginnings- of a snowman bars her way, beyond which several long grooves in the virginal white powder lead to what she is irked to discover is the lid of one of the Station's trashcans onto which a long piece of rope has been tied.

Skirting the forlorn snow-creature irritably, she makes her way further into the yard; marching up to where Henry and the blonde run around like lunatics, completely oblivious to her presence.

"This is how you behave while on the  _clock?_ "

She raises her voice to be heard over a theatrical scream as Emma overhands a snowball to smack smartly into the boy's outstretched, defensive hands.

The Sheriff stumbles slightly as she comes to a sudden halt in her movements of scooping up a new weapon with which to smite their child, and she looks up at the Queen with a comically guilty expression; cheeks pink and the tip of her nose red with cold beneath a ridiculous woollen hat and hellishly tousled hair.

"Regina..."

She dusts her gloves off briskly against the garish leather of her jacket and surveys their surroundings for a moment before seemingly deciding there is no way of making this look like she's somehow working as she should be. Accepting her charge, she simply shrugs sheepishly and offers the darker woman a bemused half-smile.

"Not really a whole lot to do with it being a snow day and all..."

"Oh _really_? Pavements covered in ice and people driving in unsafe conditions spells a slow day at the office for you, does it, Sheriff?"

"Well... I mean yours is the only car I've actually seen out on the road... And... Uh... Look, we've only been out here for about twenty minutes, okay?...  _Maybe_  thirty... I've made sure the place is gritted, I've put out the caution signs, I've done the paperwork I had set aside for today... I mean, I even sent through and signed those documents you wanted by Monday-"

"-You've done something I asked, and it's not late! _Congratulations_ -

"-Regina... Come on... The kid wanted to play out in the snow and it's all supposed to melt before Friday..."

"I have no qualms with  _Henry_  playing in the snow. My issue lies with _you_..."

"Mom, we were just-"

Henry pipes up, but Regina shakes her head at him sternly.

"- I can see what you were _'just'_  doing, Henry, and, while I'm sure you were having fun- though Miss Swan has neglected to find you a scarf or even a hat I see- there is really no excuse for slacking on what is already a complete  _farce_  of a job."

" _Hey!_ "

"Oh come on, Sheriff, what is it that you  _honestly_  do?"

Regina grumbles; cordially ignoring the small flash of orange that catches her peripheral vision from where the blonde has indeed put up signs here, and in the rest of town to demand caution due to the weather conditions.

This irritable inquiry garners a scowl from the Sheriff, who sniffs and turns to the boy a little defeatedly.

"Go with Regina, Henry. I'll see you tomorrow... Not that I actually  _have_  any work to do now, but I can't be bothered to argue for the sake of twenty minutes."

She offers a warm smile despite her clear agitation, and the Mayor huffs angrily; immensely tired of Emma's expert way of making herself sound like the victim in any situation, while subsequently implying that she herself is entirely in the wrong.

"Henry, go wait in the car..."

Her son rolls his eyes to match the way the blonde rolls her own, and Regina balls up her fists irritably within her coat pockets.

Waiting until the small brunet has trudged off out of sight, followed by the audible slam of a car door, Regina turns back to Emma with her hands on her hips.

"Do you honestly expect me just to let this show of insubordination  _go_?"

"Oh, cool it. This has  _nothing_  to do with the fact I'm out here rather than in the Station, and you know it."

"I beg your pardon? I believe it has  _everything_  to do with the fact you're out here despite being paid to be at your desk-"

"-No. It doesn't. It's about the fact I was out here with Henry... Seriously, Regina, when are you going to let it _go_? The curse broke, you tried to poison me and then convinced me to slay a  _dragon._  I saved you from a wraith, you in turn pulled me out of a goddamn  _well-portal-thing_  and saved my life, and you're  _still_  going to make my life hell in hopes I'll leave!?  _Why?_  Why can't you just let it go? He _lives_  with you now, things are  _basically_  the way they were- just with more dwarves and a werewolf that wears heels- I'm not trying to take him _away_  from you... So why can't you just let us have some fun?!"

"... Are you done? Because you're on the clock, Miss Swan, just as I told you a minute ago..."

"Regina... Every kid wants to play in the snow... When I came here, _you_  were the one that told me that Henry didn't really have any friends. Kind of makes sense  _now_ , gotta say... But... It's not like  _you_  were about to go do it..."

" _Excuse_  me?!"

"You heard me."

"How _dare_  you-"

"-I never said it was a _bad_  thing! I never said 'oh, Madame Mayor, your lack of snowman building expertise points to you being a terrible mother', I'm just saying you and I have different ways of interacting with Henry! I-"

"-Correct! I feed him, clothe him and watch over him, just I have done for the last eleven years! Meanwhile _you_  show up as and when the idea of having some fun suits you!  _My_  way of interacting with Henry is as it should be- as his  _mother- you?!_  Well,  _you_  just seem to be after a friend that likes fooling around and feeding off of your chaos now and then! It's not  _good_  enough, Miss Swan! Since your arrival in town my son's grades have dropped, his nightmares have soared, and he's suffered at  _least_  two near-death experiences!"

"How were those _my_  fault?!"

"Because you should have never come back with him! You can't just have a child when you fancy it! This has  _nothing_  to do with you taking pity on Henry and wanting to make sure the boy got to play in the snow! A  _mother_  would at least have checked their child was wearing suitable attire!  _You_  wanted to play in the snow, and Henry made a convenient companion... Get a  _dog_ , Miss Swan!"

Regina growls, throwing her hands up in the air in finality as her breath comes out in misted, angry puffs. She narrows her eyes as Emma's own widen with childish hurt and shakes her head; telling herself she is not  _seriously_  about to let the idiot blonde stir up feelings of guilt from her.

 _Surely_  not.

She had simply-

" _Ah!_ "

A choked, uninhibited cry, and the Mayor staggers back with her hand pressed to her cheek in stunned disbelief.

"Just go  _away_ , Regina!"

The blonde yells; her own words coming out choked with salt rather than shock as she sniffs angrily.

Two seconds later, she is already regretting throwing a snowball at the Mayor, but then, she argues this to be a time when the brunette had well and truly deserved it.

"Have you lost your damn _mind_!?"

Regina shouts furiously; her mouth open and her hand still pressed over the blinding pain below her left eye.

"Oh chill out! It was just a snowball!"

Emma growls irritably, but just a little guiltily. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she glowers at the Mayor awkwardly; not sure whether she should be making a run for it right about now lest Regina smite her with something a little more powerful.

"It was _not_  just a snowball! You're out in a disused yard once used for storing machinery, you complete and utter _idiot_ , part of which used to be _gravelled_!"

"Oh, come on, _seriously_?!... Seriously?... "

She repeats with a little less irked sarcasm as she takes a hesitant couple of steps towards the darker woman.

"Regina... Are you _actually_  hurt? Let me see.-"

"- _Get off!_ "

The Queen snarls; shoving the younger woman hard in the chest as the latter moves in towards her and loosely tugs at her wrist to try and coax away the hand covering her eye.

Emma falls on her ass with a yelp and glares up at the Mayor moodily.

"I was just trying to _help_..."

"Well  _don't!_  You've done enough! I think I'm  _bleeding!_ "

"You are _not_  bleeding, Regina..."

The Sheriff grumbles with a roll of her eyes as she pushes herself back to her feet. She wrinkles her nose as the brunette finally removes her hand to display a very red cheek and a tiny scratch just below her eye at which a couple of drops of blood well lazily.

"Ok...  _Maybe_  you're bleeding..."

" _What?!_ "

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Emma mutters; taking a hold of the Mayor's forearm and dragging her along a little awkwardly through the snow towards the backdoor to the Station.

"Well, how bad is it?! Is it  _obvious?!_ "

"Relax, you're as _beautiful_  as ever, Your Majesty, and I think we _might_  just be able to hold off on the stitches-"

"-Stitches?!"

"I'm  _kidding!_ "

"Why on earth would you do _that?!_ "

"...I'm kind of a dick sometimes."

Emma replies simply; pushing open the door and beckoning that Regina should follow her.

"You don't say..."

The Queen replies darkly, but she is a little surprised that the Sheriff leads her into the ludicrously compact bathroom in order to take a look at the damage she has caused, rather than bleat a pathetic excuse and storm off to feel sorry for herself on the matter.

Not that her opinion on the younger woman is biased, of course...

"I was unaware you were a doctor..."

She muses cooly as the blonde gathers up some toilet paper, pumps some soap onto it and wets it with a couple of drops of water; the Sheriff's movements effectively blocking the darker woman in as the two of them are forced to stand uncomfortably close due to their minuscule quarters.

"Never claimed to be, but I'd rather you didn't conjure up some tall-tale about how I beat you up if Henry asks you why your face is bleeding."

"You _did_  beat me up!"

"Did  _not!_  I threw a well deserved snowball at the Mayor. That's all."

"Well _deserved?_ "

"... It was unfair what you said to me..."

Emma replies as she hesitates in her dabbing of the paper to the Mayor's cheek; her ass resting against the lip of the sink and her thighs touching against the brunette's as the latter stands leant against the wall. Their close proximity leaves only a few inches between the Sheriff's sharp nose and the Queen's, and her eyes seem like damning pools as she regards the brunette sombrely, waiting for an answer.

"...  _Some_  of it was... Perhaps."

Regina sighs as though bored, but when the blonde negates to go back to the task at hand, she looks away- down at the younger woman's shoulder- and offers a weak smirk.

"You just _infuriate_  me, dear..."

"I know."

Comes the simple response, and the Sheriff goes back to gently wiping away any possible dirt from the shallow graze below the Queen's eye.

She turns around and shuffles back as much as the space allows in order to open up the cupboard below the sink and retrieve the small first aid kit, which- regulations state- should really be mounted on the wall somewhere in the Station in a visible and easily accessible place. In doing so, she presses her backside up into the brunette who strives not to give in to the sudden urge to clear her throat; lest it the action be audible.

 _Not_ this _again..._

Oh yes,  _this_  again. One of the factors that resides about midway up on her 'reasons to hate Emma Swan' list. That strange tension that exists between the two of them that seems to be some curious result of hate, and the realisation that each is a good match for the other.

In  _character_ , of course.

It is not something either of them- for she spares no doubt that it is the  _two_  of them that are affected- have ever admitted out loud, but simply a most peculiar urge that takes over when yelling and bickering for one to simply launch themselves onto the other with the goal to shut her up violently, wetly and efficiently.

Not wholly unpleasant- Regina muses as her eyes flicker down to where rough denim brushes against her long winter coat- but sometimes rather distracting.

Like now.

 _Now_  she is rather distracted  _indeed_.

Emma turns herself back around- hat slightly askew- clumsily; holding out a small pack of disinfectant between two fingers with a smirk, and Regina scolds herself as she nips her tongue in the act of wetting her full lips when presented with faint, sporadic freckles and glittering green.

"Take this. You'll live,  _barely_ , but use it tonight to clean off the concealer."

" _What_  concealer?"

"Good question... You have any? I'd offer, but for one, makeup and I are friends only as far as what takes my fancy when browsing through Mary Margaret's crap in the bathroom, and two... Next to you, I'm practically  _albino_..."

The brunette chuckles in spite of herself and reaches into her pocket with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not what you think; I don't make a habit of walking around with coverup- I don't  _need_  it- I just happened to buy this the other day and hadn't wanted to waste the bag."

She sniffs haughtily, pulling out a small, silver tube.

"Laura Mercier, fancy!"

"... As if you have _any_  idea what you're talking about, dear."

"Just because I drink Jack Daniels, doesn't mean I don't know about Blue Label Jim Beam-"

"-I beg you pardon?"

"I know the brands, I just don't coat my face."

"I do  _not_  'coat' my face-"

"- I have lipstick in my car that I'm pretty sure is older than Henry. Other than that, as far as what I  _own_ , it's chapstick and that stuff that makes it so your face doesn't peel off come February... I'm not  _judging_... I'm just... Trying to make this a little less awkward..."

She grumbles, taking the makeup from the brunette's palm with a roll of her eyes at the huffed reprimand this action garners her.

"I can barely see my goddamned  _silhouette_  in that old mirror, Madame Mayor, so I doubt you'll have much luck with a touch up... I'll do it..."

Regina opens her mouth to sark back that she has no intention of looking like a two dollar whore, but then sharp white teeth close around the lid of the tube to pull it free and the Sheriff gathers some dusky cream on her finger in a smooth, liquid action, and the brunette finds herself shutting up as her gaze flickers over pretty, virgin skin and sooty lashes.

"Fine."

She mutters, turning her head slightly to the side to allow the younger woman to dab some of the thick cream over the small mark that comprises all that is left of her injury. The Sheriff's ministrations are gentle yet efficient, and the Mayor tries to ignore the soft flutter of peppermint breath that whispers against her features as the blonde leans in to check her work.

"What are you going to tell Henry?"

Emma murmurs as she pats down the last of the concealer with slow care.

"I suppose just that I came to talk with you... There seems little point in telling him about the fact that you pelted me with a-"

But she is stopped mid-sentence as the younger woman presses her lips firmly against painted scarlet; sienna coals opening wide, but making no move to push the blonde away.

Eventually, the Sheriff pulls back of her own accord, her expression endearingly sheepish as she studies the floor.

"... Sorry... I just wanted to see if it would be how I thought it'd be... What are you going to tell him  _now_?"

"You... I... You...  _What?!_ "

"You haven't  _wondered?_ "

Emma asks, but her tone carries none of its patent awkward stammer, but instead a teasing knowing, and Regina frowns, sighing, before pressing her lips back to the Sheriff's and demanding entrance with her tongue.

* * *

Ten minutes later, as darkness has well and truly fallen over Storybrooke, the Mayor bustles into the warmth of her car and offers a curt smile at her son before kicking the engine into gear.

"What happened to your face?"

"My face?"

She mutters distractedly, her hand going swiftly to her cheek as she pulls out into reverse and turns into Main Street.

"Yeah... You're all pink..."

Henry muses curiously, and the brunette lets out a short, choked sound as she signals right.

"Oh... I guess it's just the cold... Miss Swan really needs to get her pipes fixed..."

"Did you get mad at her?"

"I... A little... We talked..."

"Is she mad at you?"

"Hmm?... No... No I don't think so... But I suppose we'll find out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes... The Sheriff's... Well she's coming over for dinner."

"Sweet!"

"... We'll see, dear."


	2. Chapter 2

"Red or white?"

The brunette inquires airily; smirking as Emma glances up at her guiltily with her hand outstretched towards the bowl of salad that centres the table to steal her second tomato. Swallowing its predecessor, the Sheriff shrugs and adopts what she hopes is a polite smile.

"Either, I'm not fussed."

Rolling her eyes, Regina pours the blonde a generous glass of dark merlot, before filling up her own.

From the other side of the table, Henry watches on with the same wide-eyed amazement he has adopted towards the evening so far. Being eleven, his perception is perhaps not geared towards picking up on certain things and what they might mean, but he is attentive and curious enough to note that the way Emma is dressed tonight isn't in line with her usual style.

Being well into her thirties- in this land, anyway-  _Regina's_  perception towards the fact that the blonde has forgone one of her standard bulky knit sweaters and winter boots in favour of a soft, merino wool V-neck and- really rather cute- ankle boots is such that she feels hot blood creeping across her cheeks to lend her a delicate blush.

She herself is dressed much the same as always-  _why meddle with perfection?-_  but has opted for a skirt with the highest slit she owns, and stockings rather than tights.

_Not that Emma will find out about this last detail..._

She tells herself that the way each of them has dressed themselves this evening has absolutely nothing to do with what happened in the Station's bathroom.

 _Hush, we're not even_  thinking _about that, remember?_

So she had promised herself, but this is proving to be a hard resolution to adhere to. Her gaze flickers momentarily to the younger woman's lips before she shakes herself mentally and takes a seat at the table; serving up the steaming fisherman's pie with well practiced grace.

"So, uh, how was school?"

The Sheriff asks Henry awkwardly; entirely lost for any topic of conversation suitable for the dinner table and unlikely to garner her grief from Regina.

"It was okay... I made a snowman, but it wasn't as fun as when we made ours..."

He trails off as the brunette purses her lips and glares irritably at Emma, who promptly stuffs a couple of pieces of cucumber into her mouth while eyeing her knife uneasily.

She realises a little too late that she's perhaps overestimated the size of her mouth and coughs fitfully while Regina rolls her eyes and forbids herself from grinning.

To grin at the blonde wouldn't do at all.

That said, she is disconcerted to find that the Sheriff's idle chatter- once she's recovered- is actually fairly amusing; Emma regaling them with some of the more peculiar reactions received to her wardrobe while in the Enchanted Forest. In turn, she finds herself mentioning a humorous mishap with one of her gowns for her first ball, and frowns when this is greeted by laughter on either side.

Laughter is not a reaction she is used to instilling in others.

Bringing herself swiftly back under control while offering the blonde's compliment on her cooking a small shrug of characteristic arrogance, she thins her lips when this action- which should be simply _expected_  of her by now- is met with a mild expression of hurt. She responds with a levelled glare; irritated that the Sheriff should find herself forgetting her present company.

_Why the surprise, dear? It's not as though we're ever going to get along._

_Why did you invite her then?_

A good question, and one she scolds her psyche for irritably. As if able to read her mind, Emma leans forwards to help herself to more salad, and the Mayor looks swiftly away as she is offered a fairly good glance down the blonde's top.

Enough to deduce that- despite the cold- she wears only delicate satin cups beneath soft wool.

_Oh, for heaven's sake!_

Sighing, she tells herself for what feels like the hundredth time that she has absolutely  _no_  intention of exploring the younger woman's lips- or elsewhere- any further than she'd been subjected to the previous day, and looks quickly for a distraction.

"Elbows off the table, Henry."

She scolds with perhaps a little more frustration than is necessary, and she bites the inside of her cheek as an amused smile threatens to alight her features when Emma sheepishly straightens up at the same time as the boy. Turning her unwanted mirth into a bemused smirk, she regards the blonde with lazy disdain, and is met with that old familiar- similarly bored- defiance.

As if proving a point, the Sheriff licks sauce off of the length of her knife childishly, with a brow raised in silent anticipation of a derogatory remark.

Refusing to rise to the bait, Regina simply sips at her wine and turns back to her son with the question of whether he has completed his homework.

"It's supposed to be a snow day tomorrow..."

"That's neither here nor there. I asked you to do your homework, so I expect it done on the day that it's set. If you're done, go wash up your things and get started on it."

With a roll of his eyes that the brunette blames entirely on the younger woman sat before her, Henry does as he's told and excuses himself from the table; bidding Emma goodnight with a small nod and asking her if he might come and stay with her over the weekend. The blonde answers in the affirmative without even a glance at the Mayor, and the darker woman simmers silently; understanding that she has to allow the boy some time in the evening with Emma if she wants to avoid a falling out, but in no way thrilled about the fact. Telling him that she'll look in on him before bed, she offers a small wave, and then looks back to the Sheriff as they find themselves alone.

"So..."

"So."

She sniffs, placing her knife and fork carefully upon her empty plate and fingering a crease in the tablecloth.

"...Did you want dessert?"

Frowning- and opening her mouth to inform the younger woman that, as a guest, this is a rather presumptive question- Regina stills as she meets the blonde's eyes; the look Emma offers her having absolutely nothing to do with what she might have in the fridge.


	3. Chapter 3

_"...Did you want dessert?"_

_Frowning- and opening her mouth to inform the younger woman that, as a guest, this is a rather presumptive question- Regina stills as she meets the blonde's eyes; the look Emma offers her having absolutely nothing to do with what she might have in the fridge._

Adopting a neutral expression- in no way about to let the Sheriff in on the fact that, yet again, she has been caught a little off guard- she runs a perfectly manicured nail thoughtfully over her bottom lip as dark eyes sparkle beneath sooty lashes. When she speaks, she does so quietly, but calmly.

"What are you doing? What _is_... This?"

"This?"

The blonde raises her brow, but despite the- really rather alarming- darkening of her eyes, she matches Regina's tone and casual approach to their peculiar situation easily.

The darker woman clears her throat and leans back in her chair, a small smile touching the corner of her mouth despite her confusion, as she surmises that Emma's attempt at innocence is about as effective when asked about her intentions as to this so called 'dessert' as it is whenever questioned about any other matter of day to day life.

"Would I be right in suggesting that you know _exactly_  what I'm talking about?"

"You tell me."

The younger woman shrugs, and the Mayor chuckles lightly as she flicks an expert finger through her glossy locks. The Sheriff's own hair tumbles gently down to fall over her breasts; tamed into submission for the evening, and the brunette finds she is unable to look upon those pale locks and block out the memory of the way soft gold had tangled and waved hellishly from beneath the blonde's hat the previous afternoon... Childish wool eventually knocked off carelessly and forgotten as she'd slipped her fingers into that long, thick hair; slightly damp with snow.

She tells herself to stop thinking of such things.

Leaning forwards and holding the younger woman's cool gaze intently, she purrs sultrily; wanting to erase that lazy calm from sharp features.

She prefers the blonde when she's flustered.

_Emotionally of course._

"What do you  _want_ , Emma?"

"Well, I  _wanted_  to know if you wanted dessert… Though, right  _now_  I kind of want another glass of wine if you're going to keep glaring at me like that..."

The Sheriff sniffs, and Regina's eyes glitter as she doesn't buy the younger woman's quick switch to awkward apathy for a second. Musing over her next move carefully, she gestures towards the counter by the sink where a half empty bottle of merlot stands at the ready.

"Help yourself..."

Ordinarily, she would offer to pour her guest a drink herself- no matter  _what_  state their relationship might be in- as the importance of playing the perfect hostess is something that had been drilled in at an early age; not to mention being something she prides herself on. Her reasoning behind getting Emma to push herself from the table and fetch her own top up is simple, and entirely voyeuristic.

An experiment, she supposes.

Since dangerously early on in her relationship with the younger woman, she had felt an unnerving sense of a 'pull' towards her, much as Emma had vocalised herself in the Station's bathroom. That said, until tonight, there has been something forbidden, caustic, tumultuous in the way she has viewed the Sheriff, and she has fallen for the darkness enough times to know that such things can seem frighteningly enticing until one sits back to really think upon them.

She sits back now.

Resting her shoulder blades lightly against the high back of her chair, she watches as the blonde turns her back and stands with her hip casually cocked against the counter and tops up her glass. Long legs are encased in the rough denim that clings to the skin mercilessly in a way the brunette finds so distasteful- the fabric itself, not the frame it exposes- and yet offers damning insight to the inviting gap between slender thighs; a temptation the Mayor herself has kept carefully hinted at yet demurely hidden beneath elegant wools and silks.

She finds herself thinking back to the way that pert denim- blue, not the flattering black the Sheriff wears now- had brushed up against her as the blonde had bent down to look beneath the sink.

She thinks about instructing Emma to bend over the counter in a similar fashion right now.

She envisages using the sharp toe of her patent, black heel to kick the blonde's legs further apart while burying her hand into thick curls to keep the younger woman bent subordinately over.

She blinks- thrown by her mind's wandering- and swallows.

Reprimanding herself swiftly, she keeps her expression neutral when the Sheriff turns back to face her; Emma catching an escaped droplet from the rim of her glass and bringing her finger to her mouth.

She does so in a way that is clearly habitual.

Innocent.

In _this_  particular case, anyway.

And, Regina supposes that might have an awful lot to do with their predicament.

She is more than aware of the way the blonde sometimes looks at her- despite her shock that the younger woman should actually  _act_  upon such idle fancies back at the Station- but such heated glances have often been the result of actions completely  _innocent_  on her behalf. True, just recently she has perhaps dabbled a little in enhancing her sensuality when around the blonde- allowing the occasional slip of a double entendre, or the casual peek of lace beneath her modest attire- but, for the most part, she feels she is entirely faultless when it comes to that knowing flash of darkening emerald, or the soft nip of rose petal pink between neat, white teeth.

And, as with the resultant tension, such actions seem to be entirely mutual.

Every now and then, Emma might make a flippant comment or drawled innuendo that has her mind journeying somewhere rather unclean, but more often than not, when she finds herself hastily ignoring the heat and excitement drawn from her by the Sheriff, they are born from nothing more than simple little mannerisms she doubts the blonde is even aware of.

To think upon such things the way she does now is dangerous, however...

They would imply an attraction to the girl  _herself,_  rather than simply to the electrifying energy that seems to thrum between them.

True... She had felt mildly guilty yesterday for what she had said in regards to Henry and Emma's treatment of him... And she had felt her heart hammer much faster than she'd have believed possible when the Sheriff had brushed her lips gently against her own.

True, she supposes a lot of the issues over which she seeks out the blonde could just as easily be resolved over the phone.

True, she had perhaps missed the Emma's irritating remarks and mutterings just a _little_  while the Sheriff had been trapped in the Enchanted Forest.

Curious.

Watching now as the younger woman sips from her wine and seems to debate on how best to break the silence, she proceeds to offer a slow smile when the blonde's gaze finally meets her own.

The Sheriff responds in kind after a brief moment's hesitation, and the brunette finds herself suddenly doubting that she will be sticking to her earlier disinclination to allow the younger woman another taste.

To allow her to explore a little further.

Her voice low as she continues, she pushes herself from the table gracefully and stalks over to the sink with the pretence of washing up her own wineglass. When the Sheriff clears her throat and holds out the bottle- tipping it pointedly- she smirks and turns to face her; holding out the glass to be filled instead.

"So... What if I said yes?"

"Huh?"

Emma mutters, carefully filling the delicate crystal in the darker woman's hand, but the pull to her lips suggests she has a fairly good understanding of what the Mayor might mean.

Rolling sinfully dark eyes and taking a sip from her glass, the brunette's attention flickers momentarily down to the gentle swell beneath the younger woman's sweater- her mind distracted by the simple knowledge that soft wool brushes against bare flesh- before moving in to stand so close that her breath plays over the Sheriff's pale features; dipping her head slightly to eliminate any possible confusion as to her intent as she murmurs throatily

"I think I might just want some dessert..."

"Hmmm... Well if you're  _offering_..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Writing smut under a skylight being pounded on by rain, and drinking wine through a Disney straw for lunch... Does it get any better?... Probably... I could be, you know, employed or something...
> 
> Also... I hadn't realised my iTunes got stuck on the same song for the hour or so while I was writing this, so hopefully it's not too badly affected! I'll call it 'an artistic catalyst' rather than drunkenness... So yes; this chapter was 'inspired' by Milk & Honey- Delain.

_"I think I might just want some dessert..."_

_"Hmmm... Well if you're offering..."_

The blonde teases huskily; placing her wine blindly down to her side, before threading her fingers into dark locks and meeting the Mayor's lips gently. She closes her eyes as the darker woman tastes her tentatively at first, but cracks open sooty lashes at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges; her heart suddenly seeming to jump into her throat. It's not Henry, however, but Regina who seems responsible; the brunette chuckling darkly as she holds out her hand and makes a swift movement with her wrist that has the painted wood closing gently, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut.

Emma frowns; she hadn't realised the door even  _had_  a lock.

A resultant clench further south garnered by that promising sound has her deciding she doesn't much care about such things.

She closes her eyes once more, and allows the darker woman to lean into her heavily; Regina ridding herself of her own wine and placing her hands at the Sheriff's waist.

Taking Emma's hesitant slip of her tongue as an invite; she slides one of her hands deftly up under soft wool to come to rest at the warm flesh beneath. Such intimate contact has her head spinning a little, and she is vaguely aware that she has no clue as to how far the younger woman proposes this all going. Right now, she decides it doesn't really matter, as she has no inclination to stop until otherwise requested.

Perhaps not even then.

As if solidifying this sudden want, she brushes curious fingers ever higher, until she cups soft satin gently, and leaves a pale swatch of flesh on display from where her exploration has caused the Sheriff's sweater to ride up.

Her attentions are rewarded when the blonde pulls lightly- respectfully- at her hair, in order to coax her into offering up the slender column of her throat.

A light nip and gentle suck at the sensitive spot where her neck joins her shoulders has her letting out a low sigh and digging in her nails as she keeps her grip firm on the soft weight of the Sheriff's breast.

She finds herself pondering vaguely over the fact that no man she has ever been with has affected her in such a way- has begun their fancies with such slow leisure- but then blocks this thought out. She takes no issue with her interest in the blonde for such reasons- but rather, because it is Emma Swan about whom her mind has recently been going off on unwarranted tangents- and has no wish to complicate matters further by dwelling on the question of sexuality. That said, she suffers a momentary inkling to ask the Sheriff if she's done, well, _this_  before, but decides against it.

A slim thigh presses purposefully against the apex created by her skirt, and she decides such a question would simply take up precious time.

Murmuring softly into the blonde's ear, she drags a delicate cup down and replaces its gentle support with her palm.

"Well, Sheriff, is this how you imagined it would be?"

She tries to maintain control with her words, but the younger woman responds with new vigour present in her kiss, and sweet delicacy with her fingers as she drags her nails down the back of a silken shirt.

Leaning back, the blonde smirks, before running her wandering hand down to the zip of the Mayor's skirt and relinquishing her of the item deftly.

"Kind of... You're usually angrier at me by this point."

Gasping as the cold air greets the bare flesh of her thighs, Regina stands back with her hands on her hips, regarding the Sheriff with mock irritability.

Such irritation does nothing to hinder Emma's interest in her new discovery.

"See something you like?"

The brunette scoffs, and the younger woman laughs as she turns them round and backs the Mayor towards the counter; unmindful of the wine that shudders precariously as she slams her hips against the darker woman's and deepens her kiss before murmuring against smeared scarlet

"Ignore that last... So far this is pretty much  _exactly_  what I'd had in mind."

Slipping her finger in-between tight nylon with its texturised topping and impossibly smooth flesh, she allows the darker woman's hold ups to snap back against her skin to illicit a low mewl.

Offering a form of sweet rebuttal, Regina plucks at the plush wool of the blonde's sweater and pulls it up over her head; watching as Emma shakes out soft curls and deciding that she and the Sheriff are at least even in reality matching desire, as she drinks in the toned expanse of the younger woman's midsection.

"I suppose you'll do..."

She offers; in no way about to relay the effect her current view is having on her beneath expensive silk. The blonde tosses her hair back over her shoulder in response and grins- tempting and feline in skin tight denim and tar black satin- and begins working at the buttons to the Mayor's shirt.

Pressing her thigh back between slender legs encased in devilishly sheer nylon, she allows pearl silk to gape open and brings her tongue to flesh; Regina leaning back and supporting herself against the counter with a low hum as soft velvet trails her skin from throat to sternum. A sharp nip at a lace cup has her releasing an altogether more guttural sound.

_Shouldn't be doing this... It's Emma..._

Yes, it's Emma, but in that lies half of her intrigue, as the slender limbs she has brought up and played puppet master over in her mind's eye ripple brilliantly in the clean light of her kitchen overheads. There is something so wrong about allowing this to happen, but the delicate scent of vanilla she has come to associate with the blonde, and the heavy fall of curls whispering against her recently liberated flesh drives all coherent thought from her mind, and instead of laying down ground rules, she simply slings her arm round the Sheriff's neck and growls warningly into her ear; her teeth grazing a soft cheek

"You already know what this part is like... If you're going to do it, Sheriff, then get on with it..."

Laughter at this- husky and purely sexual- into the chaos that has become of her hair, and she deftly tugs loose the younger woman's bra and pulls forbidden flesh closer to her as the back of her head makes light contact with the overhanging cabinets that line the wall.

Deciding to take heed of Madame Mayor's- her Royal Highness's- curt plea, Emma dips her fingers playfully into the shadow of the darker woman's underwear; bearing the fact that this whole situation is entirely new to her no mind. She supposes there must be enough psychological baggage between the two of them to fill a case-study textbook, but, just as she had suffered no real emotional turmoil in brushing her lips against the brunette's the day before, nor does she now as her fingers find the silken heat that let her know that this is most definitely a mutual infatuation.

And besides... So far as  _she's_  concerned, she knows more than enough about how to use her hands.

Slipping first one, then two, fingers purposefully between slick folds, she curls them upwards and swallows the resultant sound born from beautifully full lips; using her palm to add extra pressure and admiring the way the ordinarily devoutly controlled Mayor clenches her eyes shut and throws her hands backwards to clutch at the counter in a white-kunckled grip.

"Lose the jeans..."

Regina orders with as much authority as she can muster; regarding Emma darkly beneath lashes fluttering at half-mast.

The Sheriff complies- dragging her hand from the brunette's lingerie with slow cruelty- and wrestles with her Levi's. She toes off her boots indifferently as she pulls down the zipper, and shimmies out of tight denim with practiced finesse; leaving her bare but for a pair of plain, cotton briefs.

"Don't get shy _now_..."

The Mayor scolds, and the blonde raises an eyebrow, before slipping her fingers beneath tight, black fabric and freeing herself completely by means of a deft, salacious push.

A delicate sheen glitters just below her navel as her fingers leave a trail of the darker woman's lust.

Wetting her lips, she moves back in on the brunette and slides her hand back beneath lingerie that more than rivals her own. Such silk and lace encase perfect curves delectably, but she can't help but feel that- divine or not- she'd like her little proffered display all the more if they were on even ground.

Working her free hand behind the Mayor with some difficulty, she tugs loose the tricky little teeth at the back of her bra and pulls away delicate lace and the expensive silk of her shirt. Lips crashing against Regina's; red with both wine and lip stain, she renews her playful ministrations down below as the brunette throws back her head and hisses a surprisingly creative list of expletives that encourage her with the knowledge that- experienced or not- she's living up to the task just fine.

"More..."

Comes a harsh snarl into cornsilk tangles, and the younger woman lets out a husky yelp which quickly turns into throaty laughter as the brunette grabs at the soft curve of her ass none to gently.

 _Holy shit, who ever saw_ this _coming?_

The thought only serves to make her laugh harder- arousal knotting pleasurably in her stomach or not- as she thinks back on _several_  little fantasies induced by their tumultuous meetings over the past year.

_Regina sat waiting to berate her in her office: lose the shirt and add a pair of handcuffs._

_Regina bringing her apples: oops, dropped them, you'd better bend over and pick them up... In fact, let me help you._

_Regina recognising her shirt: 'Give that back right now, young lady. No, I refuse to wait; we're going to go sort this out in the supply closet, and either_  you're _going to take it off, or_ I'm _going to do it for you.'_

_Regina: naked._

She supposes calling it premonition might be pushing it, but the seed had most definitely been planted long before yesterday.

A low moan brings her back to the task at hand and she grazes her teeth lightly over the sex-slick tendons at the darker woman's neck as the fingers digging crescent moons into her backside slide round to find her heat in an attempt to still her husky laughter.

A breathless warning of 'I'm close' completes this job quite nicely, as she swallows in response to the Mayor's pleasured shaking.

Acting on a whim- and seemingly a shared desire, as her sudden movements are met with eager cooperation- she urges the Mayor back and helps her hop up onto the counter with none of her usual grace due to the uncharacteristic need evident in her entire being. Clamboriing up with some difficulty- careful not to hit her head on the counters that loom over them, but having less luck with not catching her ankle on the tap curved over the sink- the blonde bears down on the darker woman heavily; slim legs splayed over the Mayor's as she bucks against the sodden silk of the latter's underwear.

Trying to keep the resultant noises that greet the sweet friction to her need to a minimum, the brunette pulls the Sheriff down to taste her with a kind of chaotic passion that speaks of all the numerous heated looks passed between them. Feeling herself swiftly nearing the brink of exctasy, she angles her hips up and matches the blonde's movements to enhance the sensation for each of them.

In some distant part of her consciousness, she is aware of the dull clunk the wine bottle makes as Emma grabs her wrists and holds them captive over her head; knocking the merlot on its side and sending the ruby liquid pattering down onto the floor.

Neither woman misses a beat.

Tendons in her wrists straining against the Sheriff's iron grasp, the Mayor goes rigid as she climaxes and feels the younger woman shudder above her- throwing back her head and sending a waterfall of tousled gold cascading down her naked back- as she comes undone almost simultaneously.

"Shit..."

Collapsing down over the Mayor while trying to catch her breath, the Sheriff kisses her clumsily, before pushing herself up to slide awkwardly down off the counter.

She is about half-way through this feat when she freezes; eyes flickering as the passing glow of headlights swim lazily past the window.

"Regina... Doesn't your kitchen overlook Main Street?"

"... Yes, dear..."

"... Perhaps next time we should pull the curtains..."

"... Agreed..."

_Next time!?_


End file.
